


Batman's a Timelord in This One

by walkerofthestars



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Doctor Who, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Crossover, One Shot, batman is a timelord, time lord!Batman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:15:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkerofthestars/pseuds/walkerofthestars
Summary: In which Bruce Wayne is a time lord and ends up in Berlin right outside another TARDIS, inside there is a man and he is dying.(just a one shot I wrote that I had ideas for, but I don't think I'll bother writing more of it)
Kudos: 7





	Batman's a Timelord in This One

**Author's Note:**

> look, I'm not gonna say this is interesting or emotional or whatever. it's just a thing I wrote and don't have motivation to continue.

There is a lever in the Batcave that no one can see.  
It’s not hidden, it is placed very obviously to the right of his keyboard.  
It is not dark, in fact the handle has a bright red rubber guard over it.  
It is not magical, it is created within the boundaries of science and mathematics and has never seen or felt the touch of mystical power.   
And only Bruce can see it.   
So, there is a lever in the Batcave that _one_ person can see.  
When Bruce’s parents first landed their TARDIS at Gotham city, they hid it as best they could. When they became rich with the constructs humans loved so much called money they hid It in their study as an old-fashioned antique clock.   
They did away with keys, as they were indefinitely going to be stolen, and instead made it so that the clock would not open without the right time shown on its face.   
The face was cracked, and the bronze hands were rusted and stiff, but they gave under a bit of pressure. 

When Bruce was 11 his parents were stopped in an alleyway by a man with a gun and a hungry stomach. He shot them and stole their money and left Bruce on the pavement waiting for his parents to regenerate.  
Pleading for it.   
But they’d spent their lives before and during the Time War, and the walls of that alley were bathed in golden light as they took their last breaths. Together. Just as it had always been. 

Bruce was 13 when he learned that Alfred didn’t know about it. didn’t know about the clock that was bigger on the inside, or the golden light, or the amazing world his parents were from that they had filled his head with. That gleaming planet with the red sky and the glinting suns on the glass shields.   
He’d cut himself, badly, on a sword he’d been training with. He’d learned everything he could about technological weapons, the ones native to earth were next. Alfred had panicked and started rambling about how Bruce shouldn’t be playing with swords and that ‘this coping mechanism of playing with dangerous things is going to end with you in a coffin’ and Bruce had stood nonchalantly as Alfred got the first AID kit and by the time he was back the wound had healed.   
‘how?’ he’d asked, and Bruce had had to explain.  
He was a timelord, like his parents before him.   
And he was stuck on earth because he did not know how to fly a TARDIS.

Bruce was 15 when he finally read through all his mother’s books in the TARDIS about the Time Lords and Gallifrey and their history.  
None of them taught him how to pilot a TARDIS, that’s was taught in schools, practically, not through books.   
But they did explain everything else he wanted to know, and they set him on a path that would burn his name into infamy. 

Bruce was 20 when he put on his parent’s armour from the Time War. He refused to just wear his father’s, he wanted to keep his mother fresh in his mind just as much as his father.   
They were deep crimson red and black, armoured at the weak points, lenient in the places he needed for movement, light weight, a fire proof cape draped from the shoulders, a black belt was filled with gadgets his mother had made, and the helmet was small, going down half his face, covering his nose and cheek bones, connected at the back to his cape so it didn’t easily fly off.   
He looked for his parent’s killer, and when he didn’t find him he looked for other people’s killers. Sent them off to the police, scrounged up every piece of proof and then some.   
The doors to the jail cells slammed on them all and would never creak open to let them out again. 

Bruce was 23 when the crazier people got involved.   
He’d made the news several times, he’d adapted and changed his suit but it was still his parent’s armour. He’d changed the TARDIS into what he made his base but it was still his parent’s. and Alfred still disapproved, but he had loved his parents and he loved Bruce so he stayed.   
And then the real bad guys appeared.   
Riddler, Two Face, Penguin, Poison Ivy, Mister Freeze, Bane.   
And The Joker.   
But no matter how many times they kept coming back he did not kill them.   
The title his father had taken in the war was General, his mother’s was Champion. Their death count was high and the Daleks fled from the very ground they stood upon, but when they heard that The Doctor had taken a weapon from the depths of Gallifrey they fled with their son.   
Their son whom they taught one lesson very clearly.  
Do not kill.  
Do not kill because of the weight.  
Do not kill because of the consequences.   
Because Bruce knew that his parents only slept when they needed it before they died, and even then they were up in the earliest hours of the morning.   
Do not kill, because that is what got their people in the mess of war in the first place. 

Bruce was 25 when he turned the hands on the clock one morning and walked to his desk to see a little blinking light next to the lever that no one could see but him.   
And he pulled the lever down, and the TARDIS sprung to action and he learned that day that he was not the last of his kind.

The Doctor lay in his TARDIS, smoke still hung in the air and clung to his lungs as he struggled through every breath.   
He was dying.   
He wiped his chin and turned his head to the hologram to his left. Amelia Pond, twelve years old and innocent, the twinkle bright in her eyes.   
“I am not Amelia Pond, I am a voice interface.”   
He could feel every beat of his hearts and he felt them growing slower, counting down to the last.  
“Amelia,” he couldn’t die, River was just beginning, just becoming, “Amelia, please.”  
He sunk to the floor.   
He would be dead in less than thirty-two minutes.  
“fish fingers and custard.”  
“what did you say?” he perked his head up and saw the hologram again. It looked so much more human that twinkle was accompanied by the beginnings of a smile, “fish fingers and custard,” the edges of his mouth twitched, “Oh, Amelia Pond, fish fingers and custard.”  
He pulled himself up by the handles on the console, struggled to his feet and pulled the lever.   
The TARDIS didn’t move.  
“no.”   
He pulled again.  
“the TARDIS is still in repair. Transportation of any kind is impossible for another thirty minutes.” The hologram stated. A tilt to the voice, however, a smile in her words.  
“no,” the Doctor turned, “how? How can I get there? How can I- “he broke off, screaming in outrage as he slammed the lever down again, one last attempt and nothing happened.  
Futile.   
“you cannot move.”  
“Amelia,” he turned to the hologram, the corners of his eyes swam as tears pricked his irises. “I can’t move. I can’t save myself. I can’t save River.”  
“no,” the hologram said, that twinkle still there, despite it all, “so, I’m sending for someone who can help.”

Bruce had only pulled the lever, from there the TARDIS seemed to work itself.  
He could feel a pull on his mind, however, a tug that whispered at him to listen.   
He felt the ghost of a hand at his shoulder and turned to see his mother, smiling kindly.  
“it’s time you learned how to use this old girl.” His father joined at his other side, guided his hand to the desk that had lit up, the computer and keyboard modified into a maze of controls.  
“it’s not as hard as you think,” his mother chimed, the same melodic voice he remembered, but he knew it was a lyrebird of sound, it hid a fighter, a war hero.  
His hands brushed the controls and he could hear it, the TARDIS singing, calling to be used, to travel, to explore.   
His parents helped him, moving synonymously over the controls with him, until the sound of the TARDIS disappearing and flying through the void filled their ears, and suddenly he couldn’t see his parents anymore. But he felt their presence. Always. They were a warm touch at his shoulders, a kind word to his ears, a soft hug that touched his heart. A golden light in the darkness that had become him.   
And the TARDIS, singing as it flew. Singing of its past adventures, the worlds it had seen, the people it had met. And the worlds it wished to see.   
The whole of time and space opened up before Bruce and he wanted to see it all.

The TARDIS landed with a low thud, and Bruce slammed the brakes on a little too enthusiastically.  
The computer flashed and a date and place appeared in gallifreyan script, the circles and lines familiar and strange somehow at the same time.   
Berlin, Germany. 1938.  
Why would his TARDIS bring him here?  
He stepped out into a hall, a NAZI flag hung from the ceiling behind a desk, the window on the side of the room was broken and so was most of the wall around it. he could hear muffled yelling from the cupboard to the side of the room and stalked over. To him it sounded a lot like “LET ME OUT!” which wasn’t surprising coming from someone locked in a cupboard. He flipped the latch and swung the door open.  
He immediately wished he didn’t.   
"thank you, sir.” the man in front of him huffed as he straightened his shirt, his hair was swept to one side, eyes piercing and he only coming up to about Bruce’s shoulders, "did you see the people who threw me in there?”  
He looked like he was holding back his fury with great amounts of training, as politicians do.   
Adolf Hitler.   
"did you hear me, sir?” he asked, patience thinning drastically.   
Bruce right hooked him across the face.   
"clearly.” He straightened his shirt and took in the rest of the room.   
A deep blue phone box sat unsuspectingly, except for the fact that there was no logical reason a British phone box would be in Adolf Hitler’s office.   
He noticed the fact that it was at a perfect angle from the debris of the broken wall that, if he were not perfectly sane, he would assume the box had broke down the wall, but there were about a thousand different reasons that was impossible.   
And then the box made a deep chiming sound, just like a TARDIS.   
What?   
Before he even thought for a second he zoomed over and swung the door open.   
Words didn’t describe what he saw, as is common with most TARDISes, but he didn’t need them. He spotted a man sprawled by the controls of at the centre and decided helping him was probably the better idea than gazing at the TARDIS.   
The man noticed him pretty quick and gave a surprised ‘hello?’ when Bruce lifted him into a sitting position against the base of the controls.   
"are you okay?”  
"oh, I’m fine, just poisoned.”  
"he will die in thirty minutes.” Stated a holographic little girl standing just behind the controls.  
"yes, she keeps saying that, but forgets that I’m AM PERFECTLY FINE.” He said, pointedly glancing towards the little girl, "I just need some fish fingers and custard and I’ll be good.”  
"I’m sorry?”   
"are you American? You look familiar where have I seen you before? No, better question, how are you here? This is Germany.”  
"my name’s Bruce Wayne, my TARDIS brought me here.” He explained calmly.   
"YOU’RE WHAT?”   
"my TARDIS.”   
He blinked, raised a finger and very British-ly stated, "no.”   
Bruce didn’t know how he managed to sound so British in one word but he found a way. He probably wasn’t even British, surely he was a time lord.   
"noooooooooooo.” He said in a mixed form of disbelief and surprise. It was like when you meet someone on the street ten years after you graduated who went to school with you. “Bruce Wayne is a time lord?” he asked with a laugh and a twinkle in his eye, “how did I not guess that? Well,” he sniffed, “probably because I thought I was the last of us.”  
“look bud,” Bruce cut him off, “what were you poisoned by?”   
“his system has been contaminated by the poison of the Judas Tree. He will be dead in twenty-nine minutes.” The hologram chimed in.   
The dying time lord turned his head to her and poked his tongue out in annoyance.   
“that’s incurable.” Bruce stated, looking to the time lord.   
“look,” he sighed, “can you get me some fish fingers and custard. That’s all I need, it’ll buy me some time.”  
“are you mad?”  
“please?”  
Bruce sighed, the guy was going to die, he may as well allow him this last wish.

Bruce took the TARDIS back to his time and rummaged through the cupboards. He could find custard but was very unsurprised when he found no fish fingers. He picked some up at a grocery store as quickly as possible, shoved them in the microwave and then took them back to Germany, placing them in front of the dying time lord.   
When he finished eating he introduced himself as The Doctor and Bruce inquired after the successful use of fish fingers and custard as an antidote. He didn’t get an answer, but he did get a lot of his own questions.  
“I thought I was the last, how did you escape Gallifrey?” he asked, giving Bruce a look that even he thought was chilling, a gaze older than time.   
“I don’t know, I was only an infant when my parents fled the war. They said they left because they heard someone called The Doctor was going to blow the whole planet up.” He said, returning the Doctor’s stare with his own.   
The Doctor’s face seemed to crack, an he sucked in a breath, “that was a long time ago.”  
“it’s only been about 20 years for me.”  
“yes, funny stuff time.” He muttered, “not very courteous either.”  
Bruce leaned his head against the console of the TARDIS, legs crossed beneath him. The Doctor was almost lying down, but his head was propped against the console, his legs out in front of him cradling the bowl of custard.   
"so, you’re a Gallifreyan Time Lord, who grew up on-world, yet you sound British?”  
"and you sound like a yank, check and mate.”   
"I grew up in America though, and I live there.”   
"yeah I know, I’ve heard of you.” He sighed, “I’m a time traveling idiot with a screwdriver who runs around the galaxy cleaning up other people’s messes, but every now and then I hear something about Batman and his protégés. As well as Bruce Wayne and his many children. Most of which adopted.”  
"excuse me?”   
"oh, so you’re not there yet.”   
"I work alone.”   
"sure, you do," he said, licking custard from one of his fingers, "but in a couple years, or days I don’t know exactly when you’re from, you meet a bunch of other heroes and such and start working with them. And at some point you adopt a kid, which leads to many kids, which- no, this is too many future events you shouldn’t know about.”   
Bruce rolled his eyes, "you’ve already said so much, may as well keep going.”  
"spoilers.”   
"fine then.”  
"I’m serious.” The doctor looked at him like a disappointed parent, "you can’t go frolicking through time learning all about your future. It messes things up.”  
"yeah, I know. my parents’ TARDIS contained a glorified library filled with texts, most of which I’ve read. And I made sure ‘most of which’ contained all of the ones on time travel and all related topics.”  
"good, I’ve experienced the issues time travel can cause if you’re not careful.”  
"mmm," Bruce hummed, drifting off slightly in thought. He was distracted by the TARDIS around him. The Doctor had definitely taken to interior decorating, it put his batman cave of a TARDIS to shame.   
Batman cave. Bat cave? Huh. Maybe he should get some bats, complete the aesthetic. If the Doctor’s TARDIS did one thing it motivated him to fix the appearance of his own TARDIS. He’d disguised the inside so it would appear to others like a cave under the mansion, the clock opening to an elevator and not the actual cave, but after making sure the inside matched that description and hiding away the entrances to the rest of the rooms in the endless TARDIS he’d stopped. Being batman was more important than architecture and decoration, but maybe it was at least worth paying attention to. He could even make a web of cat walks in the high ceiling, it would be strategically advantageous if he was somehow attacked in the cave.   
"look Wayne," he focused back on his fellow timelord, "I know that you’re The Batman, and that you’re allegiance is with earth. But it’s a messed-up galaxy out there, and they could do with a bit of help. If I die-"  
"you will.” geez, that hologram was still there?  
He cleared his throat, " _if_ I die, I’d like to at least know that the place isn’t gonna dissolve into a mess while I’m gone. Just," he sighed, "keep an eye on the place for me, could ya?”  
Bruce stared at this man. The Doctor. He’d heard stories about him. Legends. Myths. The man who walked the galaxy and watched as it was created, watched as it crumbled. The warrior whom battlefields burned under, whom his enemies fled from like dust at the slightest breeze. Kicked up and carried off with a blink.   
This man was the biggest threat to the universe. And it’s most prominent hero. And most of it didn’t even know his name.   
"I’ll do my best.”

When Bruce returned to his time, heard the chime of the controls as the TARDIS landed and settled back in his office as the old antique clock. He stood by the console for a few moments, frozen in thought.   
Those were minutes, barely an hour, and he felt them settle into his mid. He was not the last of his kind. He felt the hum of the TARDIS under his fingers like a swell in a song. The TARDIS was just as happy to no longer be alone.  
He could feel his parents by his side, the presence forever warm. The cold that he once felt thawing under their loving touch. Maybe he never really was alone. Whether he was the last of his kind or not. His parents were always there, and so was Alfred.   
Or maybe he was just going mad.  
He chuckled under his breath at the thought.  
It led him on, though, the realisations of the day. He’d heard of stirrings in other cities, central and Metropolis and Starling, people kicking up drama like he had when he’d started being batman two years ago. He’d kept his distance under the impression that maybe that was best, that helping out the new heroes that seemed to be rising would only hinder them. But maybe it would help. Maybe it would help to speak to someone who may be experiencing similar things to them.   
Maybe.  
He wasn’t completely against giving it a try.

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah, whatever. if I ever want to maybe I'll come back and write more of this. I did have ideas. but right now I have three long-chaptered fics that I'm working on so it ain't happening.


End file.
